Triangle
Page 21
Tamara smiled at him, her own eyes wet. “Demanding, isn’t she?”
Merran sniffed and leaned over to pull a tissue out of the box beside the bed. “Takes after her mother,” he said, as he wiped his eyes and blew his nose.
“Hey,” Tamara protested, but because of the happiness she radiated, her objection lacked heat. “What about her father?”
“Absolutely not,” he replied. “Her father is always easygoing and reasonable.”
Tamara snorted. “Right, not stubborn at all,” she said softly, brushing her fingers against the back of his hand. “Are we all right? Is this going to work?”
Merran leaned over suddenly and kissed her. The kiss was not a passionate one, but he wanted her to know how he felt. He let the gentle brush of his lips against her cheek communicate it to her. “It will work,” he said, as he pulled her into a hug, his mind enveloping both her and the baby at once. “I promise you that.”
Her arms tightened around his waist, and he stroked a hand down her neck, resting his face against her hair. The feel of her body in his arms was difficult, because, despite his determination to let her go, he vividly remembered making love to her and he still wanted to on some level—but the baby was there in her little demanding way, and she provided the bridge that allowed him to offer her mother support and caring untarnished by his more selfish urges. Actually, I’m not entirely sure that I could perform with the little imp observing everything—no wonder many Azellian males refuse to sleep with their mates while they’re pregnant. The thought made him smile, and he broke the embrace. Reluctantly, the baby let him go, but only after he’d assured her that he wasn’t going to leave them—apparently she’d seen farther into him than he’d let anyone see before, even Tamara. The thought was not a comforting one.
“There now,” he said, pulling back and sniffing as Tamara’s stomach growled insistently. “All this emotion is making me hungry.”
Tamara laughed tearily. “You’re not the only one.” She sniffed as well. “And I need a tissue.”
Merran leaned over to grab two more and handed them to her. “You ready to go out?” he asked after she’d blown her nose.
Tamara nodded and dumped her tissue in the trash. “Yes. Alarin’s going to wonder what we’ve been doing in here.”
“He already knows,” Merran replied, getting up and helping her to her feet.
“I feel like I was beaten with a padded stick,” Tamara muttered.
“You’re not the one who just got coerced by a fetus.” He shook his head. “She’s quite a projector, that little girl.”
“Takes after her father.” She gave him a sideways glance. “Poor child.”
Merran grinned and held up his hands. “Me?” he asked, pressing his hands against his chest and giving her his best innocent look. “You’re the stronger projector, my dear.” He reached out and pulled open the door.
“Hah. You’re stronger than I am.”
“You’re both damned strong projectors,” Alarin said, coming in from the kitchen, his face showing signs that he’d experienced some of what the two of them had gone through in the bedroom. “It’s a damned good thing she’s going to go latent with birth. She got to you, too, I see,” he said to Merran. “She’s already decided that we are all going to be part of her life, whether we want to be or not. Dinner’s ready.”
Alarin was right, Merran thought to himself as he moved toward the table. The baby had made the choice already—that all three of them would be involved in her life. He could no more abandon her now than he could cut off his arm. It was going to be a tricky, careful balancing act, but it was clear that he wouldn’t be able to walk away from his daughter. As they sat down at the dinner table, he prepared to broach the subject of how to work this out.
Later that night, Tamara tossed restlessly, unable to find a comfortable position. She turned over and dozed, then shifted again.
“What’s the matter?” Alarin murmured as she flipped for what seemed like the hundredth time. He shifted to give her space. “Merran’s ideas about how to work this out bothering you?”
“No, I’m actually relieved that he has an idea about how to handle things. I just can’t get comfortable. And no, it’s not the baby. She’s actually sleeping right now, amazingly enough. It’s my dad. I’m not looking forward to telling him. I’m almost afraid to talk to him. He’s going to be so upset. I mean he didn’t want me to get too involved with you and now to find out that you and I are going to not only get married, but we’re going to be parents within the next five months …”
Alarin pulled her closer. “Alawahea, Tam-ala.”
Tamara glanced at him dubiously. “Maybe everything will be fine, but that won’t help me if he kills me.”
“He won’t kill you, akila. He might be disappointed or worried, but he won’t kill you.”
Tamara sighed, warming to the affection in Alarin’s use of the Azellian word. “Maybe if I finish my degree, he won’t be so worried about it. Merran is certainly convinced I have to finish my degree. Enough so that he is setting up an elaborate plan to be able to contribute financially without anyone knowing.”
Alarin rolled on his back. “He still loves you.”
Tamara coughed in embarrassment. Alarin hadn’t been there to feel Merran’s conflict, to know that if it hadn’t been for the baby, he would be gone from their lives, no matter how he felt or didn’t feel about Tamara. She knew it. His feelings—and hers—were too mixed up for them to have remained friends without the child’s presence. He might care about her—she thought love was a bit strong a word—but he would have chosen to pull away, if it weren’t for the baby who roused such powerful feelings in him. She’d sensed his reaction to the baby, sensed his helplessness toward his own emotions. He was bound, as irrevocably as she was, to this tiny life they’d created, and she suspected guilt and strong feelings for his child were stronger motivators than any tender feelings he held for her, no matter what Alarin thought. “What about your parents?” she asked, changing the subject. The last thing she needed to do was trigger Alarin’s insecurities. The time when they’d affected their relationship was not so far in the past that she felt she could ignore them. “They’re not going to be too happy either.”
“Don’t worry about my parents. My father can foretell the future,” he said ruefully. “He’s probably already known for years that I was going to be the father of a child that isn’t entirely mine. He’s most certainly known who I would marry and the date of my marriage.” He put his arm around her. “He would never say anything either supporting my choices or berating them, though, so we don’t need to worry.” A faint hint of bitterness threaded through his voice.
“Did he tell you who it was?” She tried to keep her voice soft and calm. Alarin rarely talked about his family. If he’s willing to talk tonight, I’m definitely listening!
Alarin shook his head. “No, Father doesn’t share the visions with anyone. They aren’t his to share, he says. So he doesn’t. But he always knows. And he always holds himself aloof from all of us. It is one of the ways precogs stay sane. There aren’t many who allow the talent expression. When they do allow themselves to see the future, they adjust by withdrawing. I grew up with nurses and caretakers. My mother has always been more interested in her status and her society parties, my father, his visions. There wasn’t much left over for children.” Alarin’s voice had become oddly mechanical, as though he spoke by rote, and Tamara could hear the pain in his voice.
Tamara hugged him, moved by that pain. “What a lonely existence. Lonely and isolated. But you aren’t, you know. You have me, you have all the other people in our lives who love you and care about what happens to you.”
Alarin turned over to hug her. “The baby’s sleeping, eh?” he asked, nuzzling her neck, pressing himself closer to her, then sliding his hand over her stomach and down her side.
Tamara snuggled against him. “Uh-huh.”
“Then how about we get a private moment t
o ourselves?” He kissed her nose.
“If she wakes up in the middle?” Tamara could remember a couple of times when that had happened and the effect it had had on Alarin. She’d never seen a more effective mood killer.
Alarin grinned. “Then she gets a crash course in anatomy and forgets all about it during the trauma of her birth.” He slipped his mind through her shields.
Tamara reached up to kiss him, relaxing her shields enough to let him in. “I love you, Alari.”
Alarin answered her without words, wrapping his arms around her, both of them losing themselves in the moment and their intimacy. Later, after falling asleep again, Tamara felt the moment of happiness stretching underneath her, and she let it fill her. She didn’t have to tell her father yet, but by the time she did, surely she would figure out how to approach it.
Tamara woke the following morning to a ringing telephone, which jerked her out of sleep. At least it wasn’t on the other side of Alarin this time. “Hello?” she asked sleepily, looking over at the clock.
“Tammy?” her father’s voice added to the adrenaline rush. He sounded odd, not quite right.
“Dad?” She sat up in bed. “What’s wrong?”
“Can you get in touch with Justern quickly?”
“Justern?” Tamara asked, as Alarin turned over and propped his head up on his arm. “Maybe. I don’t know. It depends on what time it is on Azelle. Why?”
“I just got a call from the president. He wants to talk to Justern personally. When he couldn’t get a hold of Merran, he contacted me, as Justern’s attorney.”
“About what?” Tamara asked, turning on the video feed. She wanted to see his reactions, not just listen for them. “Dad, Justern has put … is putting his life back together on Azelle. Why would he want to bring it all up again? Are they still trying to pursue Justern on Azelle to get him to pay up? They found him innocent on Azelle! Or is Joely admitting she was wrong?”
The tiny screen that revealed Peter’s face and shoulders didn’t clearly show his expression, and her father was too controlled for her to read his emotions. He made a sound. “That would be a miracle from on high. No, I believe Merran has been campaigning for Justern these past few months, working toward getting him pardoned from the highest levels so he does not have to continue to worry about an ongoing effort to collect him from Azelle. And maybe to eventually allow him to come back here.”
Tamara, who had talked to Justern religiously each week ever since he’d been exiled back to Azelle, knew that Justern was still struggling with the pain of the accusations that had been brought up against him and the rejection and blow his pride had taken. “You can’t get a hold of Merran?”
“No, I can’t reach him. He’s on a leave of absence,” her father said, sounding exasperated. “Or vacation or something. Either way, he’s not available. I’ve tried his cell and the embassy, but nothing.”
“All right, all right.” She was quite aware of why Merran was unavailable right now. “I’ll call Justy. I’ll try to contact him now and have him call you.”
Peter relaxed slightly. “Thank you, honey. By the way, I’m going to be downtown today for a deposition. I’d love to meet you for lunch at O’Reilly’s. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, and I’d like to have lunch with my daughter. Are you going to be free?”
Tamara tensed. She had no real reason to say no, but she didn’t think she was ready for this—yet. She had to consider that even though she wasn’t showing, at least not in the form of a protruding belly, it wouldn’t be long before she did, so the sooner the better. Alarin touched her arm gently, and she felt his warm presence beyond the phone screen, supportive and buoyant. “What time?” She tried to sound normal and not wary.
“Around noon.”
She took a deep breath. “All right. I … uh … have some stuff to talk to you about anyway.”
“Like what?” Peter asked, his tone sharpening. Although Tamara had technically inherited her sensitivity to emotions from her Azellian mother, her father didn’t lack for a sometimes psychic sense about people. Greg had said her father might be human psi. There were times, like now, when she believed it was possible.
“I’ll tell you later, when I see you at O’Reilly’s. I have to call Justern now. Bye, Dad,” She hastily hung up the phone.
It took her a few moments to get her composure after their conversation. “Shit, shit, shit, shit,” she muttered, pressing her hands against her temples.
“It will be all right, you know.”
Tamara looked up at him. “Sure. Tell me that after he’s throttled me and killed you. How does it feel to die for someone else’s sins?”
“He’s not going to kill anyone.” He levered himself so he could sit up in bed, sliding an arm around her shoulders. “He might want to, but he’s too much of a lawyer to give in to those primal urges.”
“Thanks. That’s a very helpful visualization.” She shrugged her shoulders so his arm slid down her back, making sure he heard the sarcasm.
“Oh come now, Tam. You’re being theatrical. Remind him that this is his first grandchild. Any anger from him is going to come out of a sense of protection. Tell him we’re getting married. He’ll get used to the idea.”
“He’ll disown me.” Her pregnancy didn’t help with the stability of her emotions.
“I doubt that. He’s not an ogre, Tam, no matter what you believe. He might be angry and disappointed at first, maybe, but he’ll come around.”
Tamara made a sound. “That’s if I survive the coming around part.”
Alarin grinned. “I’m sure you’ll survive. He may not, if the shock is great enough, though.”
“Oh great,” Tamara replied, responding to Alarin’s attempt to lighten her mood. “Just great. I kill my own father. Just what I need. What do I tell the baby when she gets old enough?”
Alarin laughed. “Alawahea, akila. It will be fine. Just wait and see.”
She leaned over. “What time is it on Azelle?” She looked around him at the clock.
Alarin frowned, doing some quick calculations in his head. “Late,” he said. “I’m not sure exactly what time it is, since the time shifts slightly between the two planets, but I’d say it’s late night.”
“Too late to call Justern?”
“Probably not,” Alarin replied. “Justy tends to stay up late, or he did the last time I spent any time with him.”
“I’ll take a chance. He got a personal phone a month ago, so I won’t wake up everyone else in the house.” It was also easier to focus on Justy than spend the next few hours worrying about her lunch meeting with her father.
She dialed Justern’s phone, using the video option, and tried not to think too much about her meeting with her father. She hadn’t told Justern about her surprise pregnancy either, mainly because she hadn’t come to terms with it herself until the last few days. Maybe if she tried it out on Justern, she’d figure out how to tell her father.
The phone rang twice, and a woman’s face appeared on the screen. “Hello?” she said in accented English. “Tamara?”
“Mellis?” Tamara asked, rather surprised to find the young woman answering the phone. The last time she’d talked to Justern, they’d decided to go their separate ways. “Hi! Long time no talk to. How are you?”
“Fine, fine. Good … really good. Justy and I are catching up.” She made a face. “Not that I’m back, really. We’re just … scratching an itch.” Her English was still very good, even despite her absence from Earth.
Tamara laughed. She hadn’t talked to Mellis since the end of last semester when she’d decided to leave Earth with Justern. Tamara had forgotten how very earthy Mellis could be. “Oh, is that what it’s called?” she asked, still chuckling. “Very picturesque. Thanks for the image. I’m not interrupting, am I?”
“No, we were pretty much finished,” Mellis replied frankly. “Justy’s on his way back from the bathroom.” She leaned over and spoke off screen. “It’s Tamara.”
“No, no.” Alarin slid out of bed to pad into the bathroom as she spoke, leaving her to talk to her half-brother in private. “Not at all. I thought I’d call and bug my favorite brother. Apparently, I have good timing.”
Justern grinned and she could see him relax. He leaned back, resting the phone on the table beside the bed as he stretched his arms above his head. His change in posture revealed that he wore nothing above the waist—and probably nothing below it, but thankfully she couldn’t see that. His chest had filled out, revealing less boyish contours and more of the musculature of a man. Tamara often forgot that he was younger than she was and quite a bit younger than Merran and Alarin. “Good or bad, depending on your point of view.”
“You guys on again?” Tamara asked, referring to the fact Mellis had answered the phone.
“Nope. Not at all.”
“Then what’s this? Mellis told me you were scratching an itch.”
Justern’s grin widened. “We’re recharging. For the next stretch of sexlessness.”
Tamara snorted. “Which will last, what? A week?”
“If that,” Justern answered with another grin. He glanced off screen and waved. “Bye, Mel. See you later, when you get back from Nemorantxl.”
She could hear Mellis murmur something in return, then Justern turned back to the phone. Tamara heard a door close in the background. “So what is going on, Tam? You never call me in the middle of the night, and we’re not scheduled for another call until next week.” His tone went from the lighthearted to serious.
She should have known that Justern would pick up on the fact she was calling for a reason. Even though his family talent might have been to project illusions visually, he was still quite good at picking up unspoken attitudes. “Well, I, uh, have a couple of things to tell you.” She looked down at her hands, where they rubbed unconsciously against her belly. She looked up again at the phone resting on the bedside table.